


Break Me (But Not My Heart)

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blind Date, Choking, Drunk Sex, Elijah Kamski Being an Asshole, Gay Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 02:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: Connor agreed to meet his blind date at Jimmy's bar, and first impressions can be misleading.





	Break Me (But Not My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdelineAround](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/gifts).



It wasn’t that Connor was opposed to blind dates, especially not when the person he was meeting was supposedly a very close match on the dating app. But, there weren’t a lot of services that were truly for “blind dates” since so many nowadays wanted you to include a photo. He didn’t want to come off as being picky. How a person looks can only go so far, right? 

 

_ “See you at 8pm.  _

_ -Elijah” _

 

The bar they agreed to meet at was, thankfully, one Connor had been to before. He felt a little better having at least some kind of familiarity for the evening, and the bartender gave him a welcoming nod of recognition as he started to remove his coat.

 

He picked a spot about halfway down the counter, shaking a few lingering flakes of snow that clumped on his hair as he sat at a stool. With his coat hung on the hook by his knees, Connor ordered a vodka cranberry and started his wait.

 

Arriving early had always been a habit of his, which on most days was a nuisance that forced him to anxiously wait in the car. At least tonight he could wait inside the warm dive bar, and could ignore the softly falling snow of early-February. Even if it only lasted a month or two, he had decided to at least  _ try _ not to spend Valentine’s Day alone again. He had put off dating around for a few years after getting out of his last, somewhat tumultuous, relationship. 

 

Well… February Thirteenth wasn’t the best night for a date.

 

But this guy sounded  _ wonderful _ . Worked for a tech company, a little older than Connor, but described himself as a down-to-Earth, funny guy who was looking for a good time. That was enough for Connor to be interested.

 

After a few minutes, the door opened again as the wind howled outside. He tried not to look; he didn’t want to seem so desperate or nervous, but he couldn’t help but glance over and check out the newcomer.

 

He was… very handsome.

 

A strong build, greying hair but certainly couldn’t be too old. The man began to unwrap himself from his jacket and scarf, and Connor took note of the thick beard on his chin. 

 

It was still a few minutes before their meetup time… but, if this was Elijah, maybe being early was something they had in common.

 

Connor turned back to his drink to avoid being caught staring, but the man seated himself right beside him. His cheeks were warmed in anticipation.  _ If _ this was Elijah… he would’ve really lucked out.

 

“Double shot of whiskey on rocks, Jim,” the stranger called to the bartender, who immediately began working on the drink.

 

As Connor took a sip, he tried to sneak another look at the man, but was caught by piercingly perfect blue eyes.

 

“What?” The voice was deep, a little raspy, but it caused tingles at the back of Connor’s neck. The face the made made to go with it wasn’t necessarily one of annoyance, rather, just curious at the intent look he was given.

 

“N-nothing, I was just-” He paused a moment, repeating the following sentence in his head rapidly a few times before saying it. “Are you Elijah?”

 

“Huh? Am I what?” The lack of annoyance before had vanished.

 

Connor fumbled over his words, “Sorry, is your name Elijah? I’m meeting someone here tonight, and I was wondering if-”

 

“Here’s your drink, Hank,” the bartender said, sliding the tumbler in front of the man and eyeing Connor for a moment. 

 

_ Hank _ took his drink in hand, and took a sip before replying. “Yeah… not Elijah. Sorry, man.”

 

“It’s all right, I’m sorry if I bothered you,” Connor turned back away, running his thumb along the sweating glass of his drink. It wouldn’t help anyone to be disappointed, least of all him.

 

There was a sigh to his left, a barstool squeaking underneath the man beside him. “You’re waiting here by yourself for… this ‘Elijah’ guy?” Hank asked, the ice in his glass clinking as he moved.

 

“Uhh, yeah,” Connor confirmed, combing his fingers through his hair, and feeling just how much product he had put in it. “I’ve been here a few times, and thought it would be a good place for a… a blind date.” 

 

Hank made a  _ humph _ , sipping his whiskey, “Well, that ought to be fun, I guess.”

 

The brunette shrugged, “Yes, I certainly hope so.” Taking a deep breath, he checked the door again, catching another glance from Hank. 

 

“Ya know, he’s not gonna get here any faster if you keep looking,” he teased, knocking on the wood of the bar countertop for a refill. He noticed the young man turn away in embarrassment, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

“No, you’re right. I’m just a little nervous,” Connor admitted, not looking up. 

 

“A little?” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Connor smiled and shrugged, “Okay,  _ more _ than just a little.” 

 

A rumbling chuckle came from Hank, nodding to the bartender as his glass was filled. “Well, good luck with it when he gets here,” he raised his cup, letting Connor clink his against it, and both of them taking a deep gulp. 

 

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. 

 

It was another few minutes of the usual white noise of chatter through the bar until the door opened. Both Hank and Connor turned, curious about the new patron.

 

He was taller and lankier than Connor, jet-black hair shaved down on the sides and the rest in a bun. Removing his thick peat coat, revealing a crimson button up under a graphite vest that matched his pants. 

 

He approached the bar, going straight for Connor as his cheeks began to burn. 

 

“I'm sorry for being late. You’re Connor, right?”

 

“Y-yeah! Uhhh, hi,” he greeted shakily as he slid off the bar stool.

 

“C'mon, let's grab a booth,” Elijah ushered him further back into the bar, grabbing the secluded table near the bathrooms. “I see you've started without me, shall I order another round for both of us?” 

 

Connor was wordless for a moment, “Oh… sure. Let me get the next one, though.” His date nodded, rounding the corner and loudly calling for Jimmy's attention, and the brunet slouched in his seat awkwardly as he waited. 

 

When Elijah returned, he was carrying two glasses of white wine, “I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I just got the same thing I was having.” He sighed as he sat into the seat, looking at Connor intently. “You look so much different in person than your Facebook picture.”

 

Mid-sip, Connor almost coughed it up in surprise. “What? But this is a-”

 

“I know, I know… ‘it's a blind date,’” Elijah replied while making air quotes with his fingers. “It's not like we have mutual friends who told us about the other or anything, but I admit, I looked you up after we agreed to meet up. You know, just as a precaution,” he explained, holding his own glass aloft. “That isn’t a deal-breaker for you, is it?”

 

Connor shook his head, “Oh,  _ no _ of course not! I'm just a little surprised, that's all.”

 

“Excellent… so, let's get down to it, shall we?”

  
  


Through the gap in the partitioned wall, Hank took a glance over to the booth in the corner from time to time. It seemed to be going well enough; neither had stormed off in fury and no drinks were thrown. That was as much of a success as he could qualify.

 

“You know the game is on,” Jimmy said to him, placing a cup of soda water in front of him. 

 

Grey eyebrows furrowed, Hank shot him a close, “I know… just people-watching, that ain't a crime.” The bartender's eyes rolled up, leaving Hank to his own. 

 

He looked back over, thankfully sneaky enough to not be caught by either of them for invading their privacy. But, he did notice a few things, mostly body language. After years of interrogating all kinds of people, he had picked up on a lot of cues.

 

For instance: Elijah carried himself pretty resolutely and confident. Almost a little too confident, which meant he was either a self- righteous prick, was hiding something,m and compensating for it, or both. He checked his phone every five or so minutes; clearly not invested in the conversation. 

 

Conversely, Connor was _ very _ attentive. He liked to gesture fairly wildly, probably out of nervousness or just couldn't help it. Sometimes, he would say something, or laugh at something, and would visibly deflate when his date didn't react similarly. 

 

He wordlessly came up to the bar and ordered them another round if wine, smiling half-heartedly to Hank as he waited. It hurt a little to watch him retreat back to the table with two glasses of rosè, but he shoved the feeling aside as he continued to get drunk and watched the Gears lose horrendously.

  
  


“Well, I think we've spent enough time just talking and drinking,” Elijah announced as he stood from the booth. 

 

Connor wobbled a little as he got up as well, “I think so as well.” He was so ready to just go home and pray that the man would delete his phone number, but instead he was gently ushered toward the door.

 

“Why don’t we go to my place, try something a little more private than a dingy, dive bar.” He spoke loud enough for several other customers to overhear, including Hank. Connor looked at the man with pleading eyes, shakily stalling away to retrieve his coat where he had left it at the bar.

 

When his back was turned, he heard the bar stool scrape against the floor, and a now-familiar voice said “What if he doesn't want to?”

 

Whipping around in slight shock, he clutched his coat for dear life as Elijah stepped in a little closer. “Excuse me, who are you?”

 

“A fuckin’ police officer,” he turned to Connor, “Do you  _ want  _ to go with him?”

 

“N-n...no…” He muttered, looking helplessly between the two men before him. 

 

Elijah was a little out off, but didn't try to fight back, “Well… if that's how this is going to go, have a good fucking evening.” He huffed with a slight snarl, throwing on his coat and storming out into the night.

 

“Well, fuck that guy,” Hank reached for his drink and swallowing a well-earned sip before turning to the surprised-looking younger man. His hands were bunched into fists, eyes rimmed red and looking at the floor with a dejected frown. “Sorry about your date, kid.” 

 

Connor plopped back into the the barstool he had sat in earlier, right next to Hank, and waited for Jimmy to come around for his order. “Two shots of whatever he’s having,” he said just loud enough to be heard and pointing to Hank’s glass.

 

Giving a little snort, Hank watched him wait for his drink and slam it back in one, fluid motion. “Well shit…”

 

He gasped from the burning in his throat, and Connor set down his coat. “I should buy you a drink for what you did,” he said, keeping his gaze on the empty highball in front of him. “I’d rather wake up with a hangover than in bed with that - that fucking  _ asshat _ .” 

 

The bartender raised his eyebrows, looking at Hank for permission before pouring each of them another round. Hank mouthed a small ‘thank you’ as he nudged Connor’s shoulder. “Good riddance. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

Sniffing loudly, Connor retrieved his glass and waited for Hank to as well, both of them intently drinking away their inhibitions. Hazy and bold, the brunet looked up at the taller man beside him, a little wistful. “Ya know, you should’ve lied and said it was you. Wouldn’t even need to get me drunk to get in my pants,” he murmured.

 

Hank sputtered, “What?”

 

Connor smirked and continued, “You heard me,” and leaned into Hank’s shoulder. 

 

The officer was stunned, but didn’t push him away, “I didn’t come here to get laid.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t, you- God, you’re so  _ big _ .”

 

That just about did it with Hank’s patience to try and keep the twink at an arm’s length. “Fuck…  _ fuck _ .” He pulled out his wallet, thumbing through the bills for enough cash to cover them and leave a tip. “ ‘Night, Jim.”

 

He was also pretty far gone, just barely getting the jacket around Connor’s shoulder before pulling him outside and trying to hail a cab. It didn’t take long for the slender, pale hands to reach around his neck and pull his face down; a welcome relief of warmth against the cold and light snowfall.

 

The pretty pink lips were incredible soft; Hank gave up trying to be careful with his sometimes scratchy facial hair and sunk his tongue between the kiss almost immediately. A muffled groan vibrated from Connor’s mouth, “Yes...mmm please…”

 

Hank had to, unfortunately, break them apart as a taxi pulled up to the curb. He opened the door for the sloshed man, and rattled off his address to the driver is he got in next to him. Before he knew it, the collar of his shirt was grabbed and pulled across the seat for another kiss.

 

“Hey, no fucking in my car!” The man in the front seat barked, and Hank rolled his eyes as he lifted up his head. 

 

“We won’t take any clothes off, just shut up and I’ll tip you thirty-percent, got it?”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

As Hank leaned back down, Connor tilted his head to whisper in his ear, “I can’t make any promises like that.”

 

Humming, they started to sloppily make out like teenagers in the car. Every once in a while the driver were make a sharp turn, only pushing them further into one another. After a little while, the kissing slowed, and they drunkenly just stared at one another as the street lights rhythmically fading in and out.

 

The car finally came to a stop, brakes squeaking loudly as the cabbie tallied up the fare. Hank handed him the money, working to push Connor out so they could get inside. The weather had picked up a little, snow coming down in large clumps and the sidewalk’s slippery with slush.

 

The inebriated men shuffled up to the front door, Hank fumbled around for his keys in the deep pockets of his jacket. It didn’t help that his unexpected companion was shivering from the cold, making him clumsily rush to jam the key into the door to get them inside. 

 

Retreating hastily from the cold, they stepped inside, Hank closing the door behind them. Connor began removing his coat, when something on the floor caught his eye and he whispered a squeal of delight.

 

“ _ You have a dog!!”  _ He said with a loud whisper, considerate despite being drunk to not wake the massive animal.

 

Peeling off his own coat, Hank smiled at his beloved friend. “His name is Sumo,” he said, equally Connor's whisper. “I should probably let him out to take a piss…  you can pet him.”

 

His outerwear quickly forgotten, Connor crept past the couch to the slumbering beast and knelt next to him. As he started to pet the furry head, he looked back at Hank with his big, stupidly sparkling eyes. Just a moment later, the sleepy dog awakened gently and thudded his tail softly against the floor.

 

Hank patted a hand against his leg, “All right, buddy. Wanna go outside? Huh, Sumo?” 

 

The St. Bernard jumped up to his feet from the rug, tags jingling as he followed his owner down a small hallway and out to the back yard.

 

Connor took the moment to collect himself, still dizzy and drunk, but decided to explore the house a little while he waited. It wasn’t a big, or extravagant home. Probably nothing like what Elijah’s house or apartment would’ve looked look. But it did feel cozy; it felt like a home. 

 

It wasn’t sparkling clean, but clearly loved momentos and photos adorned the main part of the house. The shelves were overflowing with books and little souvenirs. There was also a plaque with a fish on it, kind of like one of those cheesy, plastic singing fishes that were popular for a hot minute before they became terribly annoying. 

 

It wasn’t long before the duo came back inside, the dog lumbering past Connor and up onto the couch, while Hank crossing his arms to rub himself to warm back up. Giving a seductive smirk, Connor stepped over to him and began trying to help.

 

“There are other ways to share body heat, you know,” he proposes subtly, encouraging Hank’s hands to wander around his waist.

 

“Hmmm…” They were both still unsteady on their feet, but somehow managed to find the nearest wall as they started to explore one another with their mouths. It was a mutual battle to taste each other; impatient and hungry lips sucking, biting, kissing around the other’s neck. Connor tested the waters a little more, grazing his front teeth around the outline of Hank's ear and was rewarded with the man's hips thrusting into him harshly.

 

They found their way to the bedroom, the door closed shut as Hank used his weight to press Connor into the bed. He pinned the small wrists in his grip, pleased by the little whines and wiggling that it caused. 

 

“You fuckin’ like that,” he teased with his soothing baritone voice. He got a nod in response, squeezing a little harder. “I wonder what else you like, besides letting a stranger take your wasted ass home and letting him have his way.”

 

Connor gave a moan, his body rolling helplessly as he looked for friction. “Yes please…” His eyes were closed, head lulled to the side as an open invitation. 

 

Hank's mouth immediately went to the supple, exposed neck. He latched on greedily, before asking, “Want me to leave marks?”

 

The man beneath him nodded frantically, hot puffs of air escaping him; fast and shallow, completely erotic. He got his wish, and cried out as he felt the familiar sting in his muscle, teeth sinking into his skin. Quickly they were surrounded by a pair of lips and felt a sucking pinch on the innermost corner of his shoulder.

 

Connor exhaled, a shivering sound through his lower bitten lip as it swelled under the front of his upper bite. 

 

It was then mutually decided, as the room started to warm up, that clothing need to start coming off  _ immediately. _ Connor's hands were freed and his fingers worked on the buttons of Hank's shirt, pausing only as his own top was torn away. It was thoroughly distracting when the undone shirt revealed the grey-haired chest with a beautiful, silhouetted portrait across the it. The design had just slightly faded into the skin, the feathering along the wings only truly visible this close up.

 

“So gorgeous,” he remarked sweetly. 

 

Hank weakened at the joints, letting his weight crush Connor slightly. “F-fuck… warn a guy, will ya?”

 

The brunet peppered kisses along Hank's neck, letting his hands explore as he inhaled the musky sweat that clung to the man's skin. “Fuck a guy, won't you?”

 

“You're a feisty one,” Hank growled, surprising Connor by flipping him onto his stomach. A squeak came from the mess of pillows as hands groped his asscheeks through the pants. He reached around the shaking hips to undo the button and fly, and pulled at the stiff fabric by the belt loops. Eagerly, Connor lifted each of his knees to help. Adding to get the damn pants off and gaining relief for his throbbing cock, now only held back by his boxer briefs.

 

He stayed on his hands and knees, the alcohol making him feel loose and calm, even as he heard Hank start to remove his own clothes. The bedside table drawer opened as well, before a warm weight settled into the bed behind him again. Connor wiggled his ass to goad Hank to keep going, earning a harsh _ slap _ . 

 

“Oohhh- mmmm…” Connor's cheeks grew hot, the sting in his skin tingling heavenly 

 

Hank chuckled, low and devious. “Like that, huh?”

 

Nodding frantically, silently pleading for more, Connor clutched at the worn pillows. “Mmmmhmm,” he hummed noisily as the briefs were tugged away. Nails dug into the pulsing, red patch of skin on his ass, and he jolted forward slightly. 

 

A matching mark soon joined on the other side of his backside, and Connor moaned a little louder as any remaining self-control faded away. “Hn-Hank!” 

 

It tingled, hot and sensitive, the perfect outline of Hank's massive hand staring to show as he uncapped a bottle of lube. “Gotta warm you up a little… why don't you tell me what else you like?”

 

A slicked finger started to trace the puckering hole, agonizingly close to entering until Connor started to mutter and stutter.

 

“I w-want you to fuck me… nngh…  _ hard _ …”

 

The thick digit was pushed inside, a shiver of excitement rushed through Connor’s veins only for it to pull back out. “Keep talking; there’s gotta be more going through that pretty head of yours, and I won’t know unless you tell me.”

 

“Fucking… hold me down and make me-” He choked, grunting as the his ass was intruded again, and from behind Hank made an approving sound. “Ahhhh... Wreck me! Please!!”

 

One became two, and Connor started to buck his hips back to take all of it in. He panted loudly, need driving him into lustful desperation as he forced himself back. It wasn’t  _ enough _ . And somehow, Hank seemed to know that. Everytime Connor tried to get closer, Hank’s hand inched away just a little. After agonizingly trying break through the plateau, his arms gave out. 

 

Connor fell into the pillows, boneless and trying to reach down to finally touch his aching cock. He knew it was coming, but he whimpered as he hands were roughly held away. “Oh no, I’m not done with you.” 

 

“ _ Thank fuck _ ,” Connor prayed in a hoarse whisper as he watched Hank tear open the condom wrapper. He hadn’t quite gotten a proper view of the what he was up against for the evening, and oh… wow.

 

He should play some lottery numbers if this is how a bombshell date turns into.

 

Through half-lidded eyes he studied the bulky man, the shining silver hair that darkened as you looked closer to his round belly. It gave Hank a soft appearance, despite his rather hard personality when they first met. And the way he kissed, the way he held Connor in his stare with those bright baby blues.

 

Hank gave a few strokes with a generous slather of lube, taking Connor by the hand as he fell back to let the young man up onto his lap. “I wanna watch you ride me,” he asked sweetly. He held a hand to Connor’s red cheek as he steadied himself on the barrel chest, guiding the narrow hips right over his crotch.

 

No more waiting.

 

Desperate to be filled again, Connor wasted no time lining himself up and sinking over the head. It was slow going, but it was heavenly. “Yes yes yes ye- fuck!” His legs were shaking; he could feel his ass brush against Hank’s balls. The familiar pressure deep inside him made him exhale all of the breath in his body. And then he started to move.

 

They groaned in unison, both easing into a matching pace and getting faster each time Connor’s pleading got louder and less coherent. His timing became less consistent, sweat pouring off of him. 

 

“Almost… fucking… please…” He grabbed Hank’s hands, dragging them up his body and just below his neck.

 

The man beneath him froze up for a moment, “Uhhh… you done that before?”

 

Nodding, Connor rolled his shoulders as the hands wrapped around his neck and pressed in on either side of his throat. “Ye-eesss!” He rasped out, grinding down hard as his head swam in pleasure.

 

It was the last push he needed, making a small noise as his right hand flew to his flushed, pink dick that twitched as it spilled over Hank’s abdomen. His partner wasn't far behind; releasing Connor’s throat but wrapping his hands around the freckle-spotted waist as he pounded the brunet absolutely senseless. 

 

“Ahhhhh fuuuuuuccckk,” he slowed down, catching Connor as he curled down to bury his face into Hank’s shoulder to leave sloppy, exhausted kisses there. They rolled onto their sides, face to face in the barely lit bedroom, breathing openly into one another's space.

 

Connor heard Hank get up to use the bathroom, not wanting to budge from where he was cuddled up on the bed. While waiting for him to come back, his focus went dark and blank with sleep.

 

\----

  
  


Hank woke with a pounding headache, naked, and messily, half-covered with the duvet.

 

God, and his throat was dry. He coughed as he sucked on his own tongue, drawing out as much saliva as he could to coat his parched mouth.

 

A sound came from beside him on the bed, and he turned a little too quickly for his spinning head.

 

Wow… okay. So he didn't dream last night. He decided to prepare himself for the inevitable reaction from the hot, if somewhat scrawny guy as he started to stir. Because either probably was going to be a rude awakening for him.

 

But, when the big, brown eyes opened, it was a sunny smile that graced the handsome face. “G’morning,” he murmured, scooting in closer to lay his arm over Hank’s midsection.

 

“Uhhh…” he wasn’t quite prepared for  _ this _ , although he had to admit it was a relieving surprise.

 

“Do you have any plans for today? It's the 14th, you know.”

 

“Shit, is it?” He had been so absorbed in the work grind that he didn't even realize it was coming up.

 

Not a bad way to find out, though.

 

“Today's my day off,” he lied, already planning on how he would call in sick to Jeffery. “Do you like chocolate chip pancakes?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, Ada!!!


End file.
